


Trouble in Paradise

by rebonae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mauga/Reader - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-12 04:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebonae/pseuds/rebonae
Summary: A freak accident leaves our steadfast and eager adventurer washed up on the shores of Port-de-Paix. With no way to get home, she does the best she can to make due. Thankfully, Port-de-Paix is inhabited, and the residents are kind. However, there are a few people there she shouldn’t recognize. When she figures out why she shouldn’t recognize them, she has a choice to make. Survive on a lie, or survive on the truth.Mauga/Reader





	Trouble in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I find it easier to write the reader as an “oc” rather than a reader. Instead of second person (referring to the reader as “you”), it will be in third person (referring to the reader as “she/her”). Reader is 20. Also, not sure yet but this probably won’t be a happy fic. Expect dark themes.
> 
> Drop me an ask, or reply to this post with name suggestions for “you!” Can’t have an original character without a name, now can we?

The day was bright, and warm. Not a cloud in the sky. Seagulls cried overhead, twisting in the air lazily over the cruise ships docked at the port. Thousands of people crowded the boardwalks and boat ramps like schools of fish, undulating in a chaotic harmony, desperate to get onboard and begin their vacation.

Buried deep in the masses, was a woman greatly concerned with the schedule in her hand, and the time on her phone. It was about half an hour past when the docking crew should have called for boarding. She made sure to arrive early, and wormed her way as close to the front of the calling stand to make sure she could hear over the throng of people. She checked the schedule again. _The Watcher - departure: 11:00am - Thursday._ Worry settled in her gut like a stone. Despite the sun hat on her head, she raised a hand to her brow, she squinted, reading the ship names she could see.

Gallant, The Swift, The Watcher - who’s boat ramp she stood near, - Angelic.

She then wondered if there was a problem with the ship itself, or the captain, or the crew. Had her voyage been cancelled and she missed the call? Were they about to cancel? Just then, a loud shout that carried over the din of the crowd startled her out of her thoughts.

“All aboard The Watcher! Now boarding for The Watcher!” A man called out from somewhere up ahead.

With pep, she hurried forward to the calling stand. She muttered apologies as her luggage, two large and simple suitcases, bumped into people.

The man at the calling stand, rugged and weather-worn took her scanned her ticket without a twitch. His halfhearted well wish to enjoy her trip went over her head. Her excitement too grand, she practically ran onto the ship, threw her belongings down at her feet, and leaned over the rail as others shuffled into their rooms. 

Two years, and this vacation was finally hers! It was a round trip. Departing from Miami, heading down towards the Caribbean, stopping at Mexico, and circling arriving at Tampa. A two week retreat, filled with delicious food, stunning sights, and more amenities than she could have dreamed of. She sighed dreamily, and bent forward to lean on the rail. A soft sea breeze caught her hair, and she smiled.

Suddenly, The Watcher’s horn sounded off, loud and imposing, startling her out of her reverie. Noticing a few onlookers, she tucked her head down and, gathering her belongings, made for her room below the main deck.

It was a simple, but spacious arrangement. Enough room for one. The bed was large and plush, the bathroom was vibrant, and the closets were compact, but surprisingly deep. Everything was a soft light blue, white, and sea-foam green with accents of yellow and pink here and there. Sunlight poured in from a wood framed circle window.

As quick as she could, she unloaded her belongings into a messy pile onto the bed. She’d sort through it later. Right now, it was time to see what this ship had to offer.

The Watcher pulled out of port, an entity of the ocean, gently propelling waves as it began the slow course to the Caribbean.

* * *

Her mother worried for her and this trip. Mother fretted over rumors and previous horror stories surrounding bad trips, and feared for her daughter’s safety. She insisted she would be fine. It was only a two week trip after all. Granted, in hindsight, a lot could go wrong in two weeks. Hell, the engine could have blown up on day one. But nothing of that sort happened. Instead, a rogue tropical storm began developing, and it was rapidly building into a category one hurricane.

It was completely unexpected, but The Watcher’s crew insisted that the cruise ship was well prepared to handle a category two hurricane, should it reach that point, and that any dissatisfaction will be remedied as quick as possible. She was a little disgruntled, but not put out like some of the other guests; so, she tucked herself away in her room, ordered room service whenever available, and tried to distract her mind from her mother’s worry.

* * *

A loud, grating siren awoke her. People screamed and shouted, muffled through the walls, down the hallways. She scrambled for her phone, only to drop it to the floor. It landed with a heavy splash.

Confused, she hung over the side of the bed. Shocked to touch water, she pulled herself back quickly. A loud thump on her door startled her out of her thoughts. A few more thumps followed. _People must be evacuating,_ she thought distantly. With nothing else to do, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, slid into the shin deep water, and began shuffling towards her door.

The door whipped back, and a rush of water pushed her down onto the floor sweeping her under the sudden current. She hit the bed gently, and scrambled for the surface. Fortunately, she was able to stand on her bed. Unfortunately, the water sat at her chest level while she was standing on the bed.

_My god, what’s happening?_ she thought. The storm couldn’t have gotten so bad so quickly, right? She was no weather woman, but this was insane. This didn’t feel right.

The water was steadily, and quickly filling the room. She weighed her options. Her room was about halfway down the hallway, and three floors below the main deck. With how fast her room was filling with water, trying to swim to the top deck would be impossible. There was no way she could get air between her room, and the top deck.

There was a window behind her that lead to nothing but the cold ocean. If she waited long enough, the room would completely fill, and she could pull the window open. However, she’d have no wear to go. No lifeboat to cling to. And, she would be stuck in the middle of a vicious storm. She’d definitely drown.

The water was up to her neck now, tickling her chin. As fast as she could, she paddled towards her door, and dove under the water to get a glimpse. Hallway emergency lights were on, undulating and bright; but she couldn’t see much past through the distortion. She rose back up for air, and found that her face now barely poked through the surface. She was running out of time.

By now the window would have been fully submerged, so she could try to yank it open. Drowning sounded horrible overall, but drowning off the ship where her mother wouldn’t be able to hear the news of her death sounded more painful. Or, was drowning inside where her mother could hear the news, assuming someone survived and told her mother, more painful to bear? She couldn’t think straight. Not through her wild panic to stay afloat and gulp as much air as she could.

A violent rumbling tore through the ship’s hull, so strong she felt it through the water. Somewhere, towards her right, a good hundred feet away, a massive crash sent tumultuous vibrations through the water. The ship began to careen to the side, and she with it. Tumbling into the threshold of the door, now completely underwater, she was left fighting against the furniture that floated towards her.

It’s strange how the mind can solve problems so quickly under pressure. As if in a snap, the pieces fall into place; that’s how she figured it out. There was no way she could have gotten out through the main hallway now, but if she could swim over to her window, and open it, now that the ship was listing, she could poke her head out, and hopefully, get some air.

Kicking off the wall, she shoved herself passed the furniture until she reached the window. _Remain calm, remain calm, remain calm,_ she thought as she fiddled with the lock. It opened, and she pulled the glass open while launching herself to hang out of the window sill and gasped for breath.

Hot rain pelted her face sharply, quickly cooled by the vicious wind striking her cheeks and yanking her hair. It was pitch black outside, and the only reprieve came from the distant flickers of lightning. She saw nothing but the ocean, and the storm; she felt nothing, in that moment hanging out of the window sill, but the numb warm fear that clung heavily to her bones. The hiss of rain, and the angry rumble of the waves muted the screams and splashes of people that slid overboard as the ship continued to tilt, and tilt.

She scrambled out of the window, and onto the side of the ship. Stupid idea. Immediately, she slipped, quick as the lightning, into the black water below. She was tossed, and tumbled for what felt like an eternity. Her lungs ached, pleaded for air, but all they found was sharp, frigid, salty water. Eventually, she was carried off into the deep, far away from the ship, and into the reckless night.

* * *

Red, orange, and yellow birds twittered softly in the warm Caribbean sun. Soft wispy clouds hung lazily in the sky. The sand beneath her was oddly formed. It constricted around her middle, as if holding her up. Something patted her back a little harshly, too.

“That’s it, get it all out.”

The voice sounded garbled to her. In an instant, she realized, _oh, I’m coughing up water._ And in another, she realized she was alive.

As she coughed and sputtered, the person holding her turned her around gently to sit her up.

“Hey, it’s alright now. Got that all out of there?” It was a woman that spoke. Her voice was thick with a rich Caribbean accent.

Her eyes drifted to the other woman. Dark skin, intricately braided hair, and a blindingly white coat. Partially hidden under her collar was a name tag.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, doctor…?”

“ Mondésir. But please, call me Rosaline.” She smiled sweetly.

“Um, Rosaline?” She looked around the beach slowly. It was empty of people. There were no ships in sight. 

“Yes?”

“Where am I?”

Rosaline frowned. “You are in the Caribbean. Port-de-Paix, specifically. I found you here just now.” She leaned back a little to give the girl some space.

“What?!”

“Are you alright?”

_No_, she thought, as dread crept under her skin. _No, I’m not._


End file.
